


Harmony

by DMichelleWrites



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Married Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-25 23:33:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9851975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DMichelleWrites/pseuds/DMichelleWrites
Summary: Oliver and Felicity Queen have been burned by their former record company, Starlight. Once one of the top selling duos in the music industry, the newlyweds are experiencing a bit of discord in their marriage and don’t exactly know how to adjust to life in their new roles. However, a date night helps the pair rekindle a sense of harmony again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> _Forever_ is originally one of The Beach Boys' songs, but I remember it best as a John Stamos cover from _Full House_.

( _This was originally a GIF. Credit to original editor,[@dou876 ](https://twitter.com/lhayat876/status/833752550797168644)on Twitter for making it._ )

"Hello, this is John Diggle. I can't get to my phone right now, but please leave a message, and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

Of course, Dig's cell goes to straight to voicemail. It's his and Lyla's engagement anniversary. Lucky number seven years in, and the Diggles still find time to celebrate even the smallest of occasions.

Lacing his response with a heavy sigh, Oliver notes, "Hey, buddy. Sorry I'm calling so late. I'm sure you and Lyla are having the best night now. Look um... I guess I was just calling to hear your voice again, and uh, maybe I could use some advice."

Oliver shouldn't feel nervous, although his hand tapping against his thigh demonstrates otherwise. A date night has been a rarity in the Queen household as of late. Everything changed in that one meeting six months ago at Starlight Sounds, or as what Ray Palmer dubs it Fire-o'clock Friday. Felicity was an incredible vocalist with a six octave range that kept getting better and better with some tips and tricks from her music teacher, Lydia Robbins. Oliver had signed on as a permanent fixture to her band. He merely started out as her guitarist, yet one day in rehearsals, Felicity discovered Oliver had some real singing chops as well. Their one duet grew into so much more, and eventually Oliver and Felicity became one of the music industry's most successful duo - a pair that could easily give Tim McGraw and Faith Hill a run for their money.

"Just needed some advice." Oliver reiterates, huffing out a mention under his breath.

He strikes a match, lighting two more small candles. His husky wedding band gleams against the light as Oliver fiddles with one lush red rose petal, many of have which have been strewn about the floor of their newly assembled living room pillow fort.

* * *

_**Six Months Ago  
** _

Ray directs, "Oliver, Felicity. Please step into my office."

"Yeah, Ray, we're already in your office." Felicity points out, tapping him on the shoulder.

Palming his forehead, the boss laughs, "Right, right. What's cooking, good looking?"

Ray's flirting is absolutely harmless. However, Oliver doesn't see it that way. In fact, he loudly clears his throat with a blatant display of left hand, which emphasizes an important ring on his finger.

"Palmer." Oliver gets straight to the point, slinging a possessive, yet gentle arm around his wife's waist. "Why did you call us in here?"

Felicity wonders, azure eyes narrowing in question, "Is this about the _Sweetest Sin_ video?"

"Not exactly." He hedges, tugging on his collar. What did it suddenly raise to stifling temps during winter in this extravagant office with an amazing view of Starling Bridge? The answer to that is no, because Oliver and Felicity are well-aware Ray's office features a dual heat and A/C system. "Take a seat, I insist."

"Our music video didn't violate content warnings. So what if we made out under a waterfall and a bed on the beach in Bali?" Felicity explains, noting, "Charlotte kept it very TV-14."

"This isn't about that at all, Felicity."

Rising up from his vinyl blue chair, Oliver repeats tersely, "Well, then why are we here, Palmer?"

"Fan responses to your sexier sound and own songwriting have been great, really great." Ray begins, bristling up anxiously on his toes, "But your record sales and digital downloads just don't match your likeability or the 'it' factor. Gosh, I really don't know how to say this. I- uh...."

"We're being dropped from the label, aren't we, Ray?" Felicity surmises, an odd sense of calm washing over her. "That's why you called us in here. Tanner and Kelsey warned us about Fire-o'clock Friday."

Slamming his fist on the desk, Oliver roars, "You can't do that! We just added a two year extension to our contracts."

"Which is null and void, if an artist or artists in the case are unable to put out new music within the first new year." Ray clarifies, pointing out, " _Sweetest Sin_ has yet to hit airways, and it hasn't made its way on over to MTV or VH1 yet."

"You know we were planning to release the single in a couple weeks." Felicity retorts indignantly, "And you're just letting us go - just like that after all that you and I have been through."

Considering Ray Palmer used to be Felicity's very first manager and second boyfriend ever, she and Ray had a lot of history between them. But their relationship quickly fizzled out when Ray took the job as C.E.O. of Starlight Sounds - a smaller subsidiary of A&R Records, which is officially owned by executive record producing phenom, Clive Davis.

"This isn't just my decision, guys. Clive doesn't wanna put any bets on racehorses that aren't winning the Kentucky Derby."

Oliver's face crumples in confusion and as well as the audacity of using a horse analogy right now, "What? And stop hiding behind, Mr. Davis. You wanna be a boss, Ray, be the damn boss."

"He thinks we're losers, Honey." Felicity cuts in dejectedly.

"No, no. It's just that we all know performers have a shelf-life of five years. I think it's best that we all move on." Ray attempts to worm his way out of the tension, which is thicker than corn chowder. He offers in consolation. "The rights to your latest single and past four records are ours, but any new music you two make from here on out is entirely your own. I could manage that much."

The couple expects nothing less. It's understandable because they've distributed their music under that label for nearly five years.

"Thanks, I guess." Felicity murmurs, head drooping down. Although out of common courtesy just like her mother taught her, she shakes Ray's hand. "Maybe we'll be seeing you around someday."

"I really hope so." Ray insists, letting go at a snail's pace, much to Oliver's chagrin, "Don't give up, guys. You're both far too talented to throw in the towel now."

Remembering a sentiment his beloved nanny Raisa told him once, Oliver recites, "Nothing worthwhile comes easy."

"Yeah," Ray whispers in agreement, extending his former client the same courtesy.

While Oliver refuses to be as polite as his wife, the Queens leave arm-in-arm with their heads held high. They would find another way. They had to do so because this is their passion. They love music almost as much as each other. Unfortunately, a month passes rather quickly, and the couple has gotten so many doors slammed in their faces. Some execs claim their supposed new sound is too dated for today's listeners, mentioning that the duo would have fared better in the early 2000's. Others feel that's it's much too difficult to market duos in the music industry. Oliver and Felicity don't have the same longevity as a pop icon like Prince, Michel Jackson, Mariah Carey, and other greats.

In that short span of time, Oliver and Felicity realize they need to find jobs and fast, so they can pay the bills. Royalties check only lasts so long. By the time they get a letter, saying their rent is past due, the couple makes an unfortunate plan to settle for jobs lined up for them since they were teenagers. Oliver takes over as C.E.O of Queen Consolidated - an occupation his father groomed him for since, well, birth. Raisa had mentioned before that Oliver's makeshift crib in Robert's penthouse like office was a huge open drawer under his desk. Felicity, on the other hand, reluctantly signs on to be a vocal teacher at her father's performing arts high school, Kuttler Academy. Unlike Robert, Noah is very supportive of Felicity's dream, although he wishes she had picked a job and a man with better stability.

A few weeks in to their new roles, work piles on a lot more stress for Oliver and Felicity. Early morning light pours into their window, the couple is no longer a tangled mess of limbs, hair, and lips. No, instead, they remain on their respective sides of the bed. Oliver slips out of bed, fixated on the literal physical distance between Felicity and himself. These past few weeks, they've barely said nothing but a handful of sentences to each other. Less kisses, less hand holding, and simply less everything lately. Oliver throws on an emerald green hoodie and black sweatpants, pressing a tentaive fleeting kiss to his wife's lips.

"Mmm..." She grumbles languidly, stretching her lethargic limbs, "Why'd you wake me?"

Gone is usually playfulness and affection in her, and it's only to be replaced with genuine annoyance.

"Sorry." He appeases, reminding her, "I was just going to go out for my jog."

Oliver has been exercising a lot more to compensate for the lack of sex he and Felicity have been missing as well for the past month or so.

"'Sokay." Felicity mumbles, "Hey?"

"Uh-huh?" Oliver continues, footsteps creaking across the floor. Silently, he hopes a simply 'I love you' would follow, but sadly, that isn't the case.

She tells him, cuddling with her pillow, "Remember to get some coconut oil on your way home, we're out."

"Oh, okay." He bids, parting with an "I love you, Felicity."

Although, his wife has drifted back off to dreamland within a few seconds. The sole sound that cuts through the unbearable silence is her soft snores. When Felicity wakes for the second that morning, Oliver's side of the bed is cold and empty. While her vision is blurry without her glasses or contacts, Felicity is painfully aware that he didn't leave a steaming hot cup of tea with honey, even though she prefers coffee, Oliver knows tea, honey, and lots of water are good for her vocal cords. He would typically leave a maroon mug with a cutesy neon green post-it note, and in his messy masculine handwriting, "Extra honey for my honey with a dash of all my love, Oliver."

Felicity's lips fall into a frown. She understands they haven't exactly been on the same page recently, picking stupid fights over the littlest things, such as who's turn it is to take the trash out that night. Felicity pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Her bare feet pad the carpeted floor, venturing down to the garage. Her ears are subsequently greeted by the barely audible sounds of Oliver's grunts. He wasn't getting himself off in the garage, was he? She's knows it's been awhile. Well, by their standards. Upon her suspiciously, Felicity flings the door open to reveal her sweaty shirtless husband doing insane pull-ups by their car. Now, there's a sight for sore eyes. His tantalizing skin is sheathed in a subtle pink flush. Oliver's washboard abs look as delicious as ever, although he seems a bit more trim than usual. Briefly concerned, Oliver wasn't eating enough, her eyes are fixated on the constant thrusts of his hips as he ascends the metal exercise apparatus. It was any wonder how those black sweatpants didn't slide off right there. Nothing she hasn't seen before. Oliver and Felicity reconvene the minute she approaches him closer.

"Uh, hey, Oliver." She greets nervously as if it was the first time time they've spoken in years, course-correcting because there's no reason to be this way, "Hey, honey."

His sneakers hit the concrete ground with a soft thud.

"Hey, I didn't hear you come in. I was busy."

His wife acknowledges, slowly invading his personal space, "I can see that."

"You alright?"

Her nude lips purse, inquiring, "Sure why?"

"You're doing that little crinkly thing with your eyebrows." He notices, making a misshapen swirling motion with his hand, "And you're kind of gawking at me."

Felicity chuckles at that, shrugging her shoulders, "Well, then I guess I'm a gawker."

"Mm, okay, and are you just going to stand there staring at me, Baby?"

Baby? Well, someone's in a better mood.

"Huh? I could ask you the same question, my love."

Her supple palms slip over his damp torso, arms looping around his neck. His callous hands errantly travel down her back, sneaking underneath her coral t-shirt, massaging her skin gently. Their blue eyes reconnect, staring each other down. It's as if this moment last forever, their breaths both hitch in anticipation. Finally after a long beat, their mouths collide in a passionate frenzy. This kiss isn't even in the vicinity of chaste, and it certainly isn't a short peck either. Felicity's moan resonates in his mouth as he sucks on her bottom lip, nipping slightly. Suddenly, the air whooshes out from her lungs when Oliver picks up Felicity by the hips. In that instant, Felicity is thrown up against a blank white wall, his hands comfortably cushioning her back. From there, it's all tangled tongues, nipping, and making it as if their breathing is damn near perfectly in sync. His hips grind against hers, and Felicity growls in beratement - not at her husband. She curses the fact that her black yoga pants are so goddamn thin. This kiss is the culmination of their anger, fire, and pure passion all combined into one spicy cocktail of emotion. They have some stuff to work on, but this connection is a good start to getting the couple back on track. Much to Felicity's chagrin, Oliver pulls away, if only for a moment, causing his wife to whisper in protest.

Shaking his head, Oliver utters gently, "Hey, stranger."

"Hiya." She chimes, half-giggling, half-moaning when his stubble rasps down the column of her neck, "Uh, ooh, God, wait, wait, I think we need to talk first. Please, Oliver."

Her husband promises, setting her down on the floor, "Alright, alright. We're stopping. I'll be a good boy. I swear."

"You're cute." Felicity compliments, cupping his cheeks. Her thumbs pool in his dimples.

They decide on a much needed long conversation for later that night. One they actually manage to have, yet it leaves them more confused than before. The confusion definitely isn't about the state of their marriage. They love being married to each, and they always will be. However, their issues are more about where do they go from here when they're not happy in their work lives? Those issues tend to bleed into their relationship, blistering into more stupid little fights. Although, any marriage has their ups and downs. In fact, all their parents are living proof of that. Oliver and Felicity work through their problems as a team, not always understanding how to properly communicate with each other because neither of them had examples of a normal, happy relationship. Over the past few months, Felicity thinks their relationship needs a do over of sorts.

Pressing a finger to his chin, Oliver smiles, "Hmm... I might have an idea."

* * *

  _ **Present Day** _

Felicity descends the staircase, and Oliver soaks in every inch of his beautiful wife.

His mouth is left agape, silently whispering like a prayer, "Wow! You look amazing."

Her classic black stilettos make her legs look a mile long. Thankfully, the typical clacks of Felicity's heels are muffled under the ornate carpet draped over each step, yet his vision is far more entranced by her creamy skin, the subtle swivel of her curvy hips when she sashays towards him, the stunning crimson of her strapless dress, revealing a perfect amount of her demure decolletage, and that stunning smile to match.

"Advice," His wife teases lovingly, clearly hearing Oliver's voicemail to John, "Aw, is this your first time?"

"Ha ha. You gotta admit it's been awhile."

Felicity sits on her haunches, coaxing in a hushed tone, "Well, don't worry I'll be gentle, but knowing you maybe I won't be."

Oliver shudders at her promise. He likes when she abandons all control because of him. Felicity does have a habit of nipping at his shoulder blade in the heat of the moment when her walls pulse around his member, pulling him even deeper. But that's for later, definitely later. Right now, they require an actual date night with sustenance. Oliver has prepared a spectacular chicken cordon bleu with a nice side of crisp green beans and light button mushrooms.

"What do you think?" Her husband prompts, handing her a nice tall glass of Pinot Noir.

To most, this private, romantic gesture may seem like one of those cheesy ads in _Redbook_ as a way to please your spouse, and they'd be totally right. This setting screams cliche from the highest bell tower in Notre Dame. Numerous red and white candles cast a warm glow around them, which is usually a fire hazard. But Hell, Oliver and Felicity have recently paid off a house in Coast City before what they refer to only as "the incident" six months ago. A delicious meal on their plates. Fresh strawberries drizzled in a decadent assortment of dark, milk, and white chocolate are at their coffee table. Red rose petals sprinkled from the bottom of the stairs in a messy heart shape around them. Her husband sitting their with hopeful eyes, and at least three buttons of his dress shirt undone. But the fort comprised of multiple cushions, throw pillows, bed sheets, and kitchen chairs make it fun.

After Felicity nurses a small sip from her glass, she believes, "It's perfect, Honey."

"Really?"

"Really." She confirms with a reverent nod, breath ghosting over his lips, "And you look _so hot_."

His smile is toothy and broad, continuing, "You look stunning in that dress."

"Thank you."

Pecking her lips shortly, Oliver nibbles her earlobe, "And I can't wait to see what it looks like off you, but first dinner."

Now it's Felicity's turn to be taken by surprise. However, she and Oliver will get to that later. For now, the couple eats their meals in a comfortable silence. Their hands would absentmindedly brush against each other, not daring to hold hands yet. At this point in their marriage, suddenly it's as if their relationship feels very new. One reason being, according to John and Lyla, Oliver and Felicity love each other like they're in high school again without the numerous breakups. No, that aspect of their life was as strong as the guerrilla glass in the limos they used to take to shows. They love each other like teenagers more so in the way they've always shown affection towards each other - the long stares when she sings or he plays guitar just the two of them, the fact that they can't keep their hands or mouths off each other, and whispers of sweet nothings.

Felicity toes off her heels, leaving them by the wayside. Oliver takes initiative, using his roughened hands adorned with several callouses after countless hours of strumming his favorite instrument to rub his wife's feet. God, he's not a virtuoso with a guitar, but he knows how to work with Felicity's body just as well.

" _Oh! That feels good_." Felicity mewls, continuing, "You're incredible at that."

What he wouldn't give to hear that again tonight. Her eyes drape shut, reveling in the sensation of his hands.

"Felicity, Honey, you know you didn't have to wear heels tonight. It's just us."

One eyelid pops open, "Is that a complaint I'm hearing, Queen?"

"No, no." He assures, worry jolting through him as he grips her ankle tightly, "Just a thought."

With a hand skimming his firm bicep, his wife eases, "Relax, Hon. I was only joking."

"Sorry, I'm sorry. It's just that we both been a little..."

"On edge lately." His wife finishes, apologizing as well, "I'm sorry too. We've been both stressed at work."

"You know I'm not happy going along with my father's every little whim."

She concurs, mentioning, "Neither I am, but we need the money to pay the bills every month."

They are both well aware of their situation. Oliver and Felicity had this way of starting with argument about clothes appearing like a twister from the _Wizard of Oz_ hit their bedroom and it would still somehow result in what they lost. They were forced to leave their passion for music behind, and are now stuck in mundane, yet stable jobs. For the first time in months, tonight feels as if a barrier is being broken between them.

"I don't think we should ever stop pursuing music completely." Felicity brings up, suggesting, "Maybe we could come up with a comprise."

"Felicity, we've been over this a thousand times. There's no way my father's going to allow that."

"Your father is a pain in the ass. Yes, we need to keep those jobs for now, but this our life together, Oliver, our choice. We cannot give up on our dream. I won't let us."

He figures, "So you're saying it's time I stand up to my dad?"

"Yes." She says, scooting in his lap, "Exactly. We need to find another way."

"I guess we just need to rework our schedules."

Her voice drops to a low whisper, agreeing, "Yeah."

"Okay, I'll talk to my dad on Monday."

"Good." Felicity states, craning her neck up for a quick smooch. "Hey, Oliver?"

"Yes, dear."

Rolling her eyes, she retrieves his acoustic guitar that's been stashed away in a corner for way too long, "Play for me."

"I'm a little rusty, my love."

With a jutted out lip, Felicity pouts, "Please."

"On one condition." Oliver barters, holding up his index finger for emphasis, "Sing for me."

"Sing _with_ me. C'mon, it'll be like old times, even though six months is not old at all."

Relenting easily, her husband wonders, "Okay, okay. What song?"

"Hmm..." His wife thinks, looking up at the ceiling, "How 'bout the one from our wedding?"

" _Forever_ , it is."

Oliver briefly tunes the strings as Felicity draws nearer, settling on her knees. The opening chords to the mid-tempo ballad is just as she remembers.

Felicity sings, sounding just as pitch-perfect as ever with Oliver joining in on background vocals:

 _"If every word I said to you_  
_Could make you laugh_  
_Ooh, I'd talk forever_  
_I asked the sky just what we had_  
_It showed forever (together my love)_  
_If the song I sing to you_  
_Could fill your heart with joy_  
_I'd sing forever (together my love)"_

Oliver takes the lead on the next short verses with Felicity switching to background vocals:

" _Forever, forever_  
_I've been so happy loving you_  
  
_(together my love)_  
_Let the love I have for you live in your heart_  
_And be forever_ _(together my love)_  
  
_Forever, forever_  
_I've been so happy loving you"_

After Oliver plucks the strings, indicating the musical break, they sing the last part of Forever in a harmony they've discovered once again.

" _If every word I said could make you laugh_  
_I'd talk forever_  
  
_Da da da da da da, da da da da da da_  
  
_Forever, forever_  
_I've been so happy loving you"_

The "loving you" is a purposeful held note on Oliver and Felicity's parts, even though the original song isn't played that way. At this point, Oliver and Felicity's faces are mere centimeters away from one another. Felicity closes the gap between them, sucking on his bottom lip. She wants to straddle his lap, but that goddamn guitar is blocking her. Oliver rushes off,  tucking his favorite instrument back in its case with a heavy thud. Felicity has already whipped off the matching thin leather belt to her dress, hands moving to her hair. Why Felicity ever opted for a fancy updo is beyond her right now? Oliver's eyes follow the numerous bobby pins that clink on the coffee table - one by one. So much so that the clink of the pins and that annoying ticking clock above them may drive them both insane. With one final clamp of her large hair clip at the back, Felicity's hair is finally released from its torture devices. Her loose waves don't cascade down her shoulders as most men hope, they fall down in a messy heap to her shoulders. Yet Oliver thinks his wife's never looked more beautiful. Well, maybe with the exception of the wedding night.

She prompts expectantly, her voice laden with seduction, "Well, are you just going to stand there gawking, Baby?"

"Yes." He admits huskily.

Their eyes have never seemed so blue, strikingly like the hottest part of a fire. Oliver sits behind Felicity, slowly unzipping her dress. The chill of his breath caresses her increasingly warm skin, and this is merely the start of their night. She shudders as his pillowy lips graze her shoulder, leaving a wet trail of kisses down the column of her spine. Felicity gestures for her husband to get up, tugging down the bodice and skirt of her dress until the fabric pools at her bare feet. The chipped black polish on her toes peaks out the discarded hem before she steps out of it fully.

Felicity emits a sultry laugh with a 'come hither' finger wag, "What? Are you waiting for an invitation, Mr. Queen?"

"Not at all, Mrs. Queen." Her husband confesses, a wry smile crossing his lips, "I'm simply just enjoying the view."

His mitigated gaze fixates on the black lace bra concealing her voluptuous breasts, veering down towards her taunt tummy with a bellybutton he enjoys tracing with his tongue so very much. Oliver's smile grows wider at the sight of her mismatched lavender underwear.

Hooking her fingers in her panties, his wife commands, "Less looking, more doing before I take matters into my own hands."

"Don't you dare." Oliver warns, crossing the distance between them.

Their faces practically smash against each other in bruising kiss. His fingers are wrapped in her tangled locks, but that certainly doesn't deter them in the slightest. Her tongue strokes in his mouth, doing their usual dance of a battle for dominance. Her panties end up dangling by her ankles as Oliver cups her bare butt cheeks, picking her up in his arms as if she weighs absolutely nothing. Her legs bracket his waist. Their lips meld in other, much gentler in tone and tenor as they engage in soft pecks.

His wife suspects, eyebrow arching, "Bedroom?"

"No time." He huffs before his mouth is on hers for the umpteenth time that night.

Oliver unclasps her bra single-handedly, flinging the offending fabric towards her dress. He lays her down gently a sea of maroon and buttery yellow pillows. The firelight dances across her skin, but bemoans the fact that Oliver is way to overdressed for this private party.

Felicity demands in a giddy tone, "Shirt off, Queen. Chop, chop."

"So bossy."

In the dimly lit area of their living room, Felicity can't actually see it, although she's pretty sure a grin split his face.

"You love it, Honey." She reminds, expression matching his.

Oliver opens the rest of the buttons on his shirt. That sight alone makes Felicity lick her smeary red lips. When her tongue darts out, Oliver has plans of his own. His body soon blankets hers. They moan in unison as the pure tactile notion of their bare skin pressed against each other. Oliver finds it much easier to take his time with Felicity. He loves the way her blonde locks are fanned over the cusions, the subtle pink prick marks from his beard around her mouth, her slightly swollen lips from the intensity of their makeout. Her baby blues flutter as he plants a light kiss to to the tip of her nose, working his way down. He teasingly nips at her jaw, rubbing his scratchy stubble over her neck. Oliver pauses, paying extra special attention to that sensitive spot of her pulse point.

"Oliver." Felicity pleads, asking for more with the simple utterance of her husband's name.

His kisses are much quicker as he makes his descent down her torso, dipping his tongue into her bellybutton and tracing along the outer edge. A lingering smooth reaches her pelvis.

Oliver utters gently, wondering if he should right now, "Felicity."

"God, yes." His wife requests with an emphatic nod, "Honey, please."

On that note, Oliver's tongue laves at his slit a few times until her pink folds begin to glisten with desire. Not second later, his hands grip her inner thighs, spreading her open. Felicity tugs at his short blonde strands, wishing her husband didn't opt for a buzzcut in recent years. After all, what's she supposed to grab onto during moments like these? That thought gets pushed way down when his mouth is on her, nose bumping against her clit as he sucks ardently on her nether lips. Felicity's back arches against the pillows, Thankfully, Oliver keeps her thighs pinned down before his tongue prods inside her, licking Felicity's silken walls. A harsh broken gasps sneaks past her lips as his wet muscles riffs deeper, probing around until he finds a special spot deep inside her. But it's not enough, he knows that. Oliver can sense Felicity's frustration. Two fingers soon replace his tongue, stroking in and out at a madden pace. Oliver nurses her clit, mimicking the speed of his digits.

She keens in reckless abandon, "Oh, _Fuck_! Right there, _right there_. _Don't stop_."

He doesn't, building that crescendo of pleasure before she comes with a mangled heavy shout of his name. His fingers pump softly, working them through Felicity's orgasm when their gazes connect. Her hips undulating by his face, moving to their own volition. Wetness soaks his palm and mouth. He loves the taste of her sweet, tangy, rich, and pure Felicity. He crawls back up her body, waiting as noisy breaths jostle under his torso.

"So fucking sexy." He compliments gruffly.

Pulling him down on her, Felicity orders, "Kiss me."

"Felicity, I just..."

With a shake of her head, she swears, "I don't care."

Felicity tastes the remnants of her essence in his mouth, moan reverberating against his lips. His jeans are going to smell like. Not that he cares, Oliver desperately desires to get inside her as quickly as possible. They shove his pants down together, despite the constricting tent surrounding his erection. His gray boxers rapidly follow. His hips collide against hers, grinding emptily.

" _Fuck, Felicity_. You feel incredible. I need to..."

To Oliver's surprise, Felicity takes his stiff member in her deft hand, positioning him at her entrance. He eases in slowly before he buries himself at the hilt. Their noses bump against one another in adorable Eskimo kiss before he pulls his his hips, thrusting back out and in. She meets him with little thrusts of her own. Her heels dig into his butt, encouraging him to go harder and faster. Skin slaps against skin as the dying fire crackles nearby them. A hand sneaks between their bodies, rubbing small circles over her clit once again. Another orgasm ripples through Felicity, and her moans are quelled past his lips.

Gripping his shoulders, her tone is seething with ecstasy. " _Oliver, come for me._ "

Not yet. He grits his teeth, trying to stave off his own pleasure. Her core is rhythmically squeezing him, and Felicity's hips are the perfect cradle. With one rough kiss, Oliver's orgasm sparks at the base of his spine. An amalgamation of his wife's name is muffled over her lips as he spills into her long, hot spurts. He collapses against her, taking in sharp breaths. It's while before they move off each other.

"I love you." Oliver says, etching like a tattoo on her skin. He sweeps back a stray strand of her now curlier hair.

With a hand splayed over the tattoo on his chest, Felicity murmurs sleepily, "I love you too."

Their limbs are tethered against as Felicity falls asleep while sprawled over the side of his torso. Oliver watches her peacefully, feeling more at ease than he's ever been in recent moments. A hand glides over the sexy curve of her ass, up her back before it settles at the nether region between her boobs and waist. With another whisper of "I love you," Oliver succumbs to sleep. To say the Queens find another label would be nothing short of miraculous. Unfortunately, that never happens again. But they never stop doing what they love, making music videos for YouTube fans, and they grow their own independent fanbase.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews and Kudos are appreciated.  
> Say hey, and please let me know what you think in the comments.  
> Tumblr: [DMichelleWrites](http://dmichellewrites.tumblr.com/)  
> Twitter: [@dmichelleca](https://twitter.com/dmichelleca)


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